


Roses Set On Fire

by orphan_account



Category: Frankenstein & Related Fandoms, Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: AKA ADAM NEVER KILLED WILLIAM HENRY OR ELIZABETH, AND SO MANY POSSIBILITIES, Adam isn't effected by sirens because he isn't human enough, Frankenstein is great for creativity, Hallucinations, Hi his name is Adam as usual, Hypnotism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Sirens, also HEY THIS IS SEA SHANTIES AU, bc goth lit discord said so, that didn't happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 13:45:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20098168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He had heard tragic stories of men who left and never returned, of skeletons crashing onto shore with teeth worn bones, all blamed on the demonic entities of the sea. They were man eaters, and none who met them ever returned.





	Roses Set On Fire

**Author's Note:**

> We out here  
Once again this is just for myself and my friends

The day had been a grand one, with clear skies and strong winds pushing them mile by smooth mile to the center of the Earth. The strange, forever burning sun had finally rested its fiery mane, allowing darkness to ease the strain in Robert’s eyes and the ache in his head. Feeling clear and well rested, he stood on deck, simply enjoying the weather. 

It was with these jovial feelings that he turned to heed a fellow sailor’s call, not noticing the strange tenor in the other’s voice, or the way he swayed as he stared at the sea. Only when Robert reached the small group nestled by the mast did he seem to heed the danger they were all in.  
In the time it took for him to gaze into the opalescent eyes peering onto the deck, Robert knew what had happened, and what their fate would be closing into unless he did something fast. 

Except, the crooning he heard was so gentle, and so soothing. He didn’t think he had ever felt quite that warm before. And the strange creatures before him had somehow transformed, with curly dark hair and gentle yellow eyes where only misery swam before. 

It was only this strange, false sense of love that Robert could focus on, everything else slowly blurring away, before it went suddenly and violently black. 

Only a few short feet away, sequestered in Robert’s own personal cabin sat Adam. He had been waiting patiently for the captain to return and begin their nightly ritual. Ever since that first evening on the mighty Eve, Robert insisted on spending at least a half hour combing through his hair, simply playing with the coils and manipulating them between his rough fingers.

Yet here Adam sat, waiting in the dark shadows of the room, a candle the only thing preventing total blindness. It had only been about an hour, but the worry was slowly starting to grace his mind. The outside world had been disturbingly quiet for this duration, and a strange aura had seeped from the very air itself. It was something heavy and thick, weighing down Adam’s spirit and causing an ache in his temple.

Adam flinched as the pain in his head increased, and a strange lilt began in his ears. It was shrill and uncomfortable, almost like a woman screaming and yet even louder. He could only lay as the pressure increased, stronger and stronger, becoming something monstrous in its intensity. It blinded him, until it felt as if his scalp was splitting and blood was drenching his ears. 

Yet just as fast as it came on, it disappeared, the only proof it was even there a harsh ringing in Adam’s over-sensitized ears. Everything had resumed its loud silence, the only thing audible being Adam’s harsh breathing in the darkened room. His head ached and he was exhausted, with his body feeling as if it was bruised all over.

Standing up was hell, but Adam understood that something was off with the ship. The strange quiet, the screaming, the pain, none of it made sense but he couldn’t have been the only one affected by it. At the very least someone heard, and could help him discover the cause of that demonic caterwauling. 

His legs burned as he walked, inching towards the cabin door, biting his lip to prevent screaming. His worry for the other crew members, as well as his confusion towards the entire event as a whole forced him onward. 

As Adam walked onto the deck, his first thought centered on the strange glow surrounding Eve. His second observation was the way his fellow sailors grouped together at the helm, all leaning over and silently grappling with each other. As he walked over, apprehension clutched his chest, he could barely bring himself to ask the question burning in his throat. 

“Robert, friends, is everything alright?” 

Only silence answered, not a single head turned towards his rough voice. Adam wondered if he had uttered it too quietly, yet knew at least one person must’ve heard him. He took a few steps closer, noticing the strong glow seemed to emanate from the helm itself. 

It was a labored yellow, thumping like a heartbeat and almost entrancing. Adam could feel himself slowly sinking into it, his walk more confident as he trailed closer to its magnitude. He only snapped out of this unholy hypnotism after he met with the ship medic’s back. He stumbled backwards before falling towards the deck. As he caught himself the headache came back with a vengeance, forcing him to lay his forehead on the cool wood. It was much less intense this time, thankfully, but still had Adam groaning in pain.

As it faded he forced his arms from under him, standing up in a smooth motion and squinting in pain as the glow brightened once more. It only exacerbated the remaining ache he felt, and he forced his eyes closed against it. Something was terribly wrong, and it was easy to see what was causing it.

Adam could only presume the strange behavior his friends were exhibiting was from the aura surrounding the ship, and that he seemed to be the only one capable to stop it, or bring the others back to awareness. He steeled himself, and shook off the fear he felt, before beginning to twist his long body through the throngs of people. They had ceased their strange battling while Adam was recovering on the floor, and they now pressed against each other, vying towards the edge of the ship. 

As he made his way through the crowd, he heard a shrill and discordant wailing. Something earsplitting and agonizing, it made Adam’s migraine flare up horrendously. It was certainly obvious now that the sound was causing this entire event, not the lights. Whatever was in the sea surrounding them was not natural, and seemed hellbent on causing excruciating pain. 

Successfully through the crowd, he peered over the edge of the helm, only to veer back in horror at the sight before him. Grotesque creatures thrashed through the water, causing it to foam and writhe like something alive. Bulging eyes glared at him through the haze, pupiless and oozing at the corners as if inflamed. Teeth too big for their mouths gnashed, whilst clumpy drool floated around their sore ridden heads. 

Sirens. All at once Adam was bone chillingly cold, and completely terrified. He had heard tragic stories of men who left and never returned, of skeletons crashing onto shore with teeth worn bones, all blamed on the demonic entities of the sea. They were man eaters, and none who met them ever returned. 

Tears sprung from Adam’s eyes, he had only just met a new, wonderful family for it to crack down again. He should have known it was too good for truth. It was with this thought that he began to search for Robert, praying with all he had that he had been unaffected by the maid’s spells, like Adam himself had not. He almost wished he stayed inside once he found the shorter man.

Gone was the gentle soul Adam had grown used too, replaced by some beast determined to mark their grave with temptresses. He was lashing out at the men closest to him, surging towards the water like some dried out animal. Just the sight brought horror to Adam’s mind, and made his breath quicken with fear. He knew he had to do something, but what? Who could compare to the queens of the sea, able to corrupt all who hear them?

Corrupt all, except Adam. He was the only one not under their spell, the only one capable of stopping this. Gears began to turn in his mind, as he quickly assessed the situation. Obviously no one could help him, all caught up in whatever fantasy that had been presented to them.

Everything was warm and soft and beautiful. Hazey strips of sunset gauze swam through the air, and dusk seemed to ooze through strands of Robert’s hair. He was floating and falling and swimming and sinking all at once, and it felt so good. Every breath sighed was a gust of cold flame, and every inhale something murky and dark. All he could feel was dark, inky hair floating in the water, and too bright eyes staring through him. 

All he wanted to do was fall into it, the gorgeous water and the hypnotic sunset and get away from the stress and damp and decay. He was so tired, and those whiskey eyes seemed to speak to him, whispering enchanting stories of ancient seas and poetry, stealing breath through far away kisses and cat-like blinks. They seemed to understand him like none before, black lips smiling gently and long bodies dancing to the water’s rhythm, something only they understood. 

As he worked, Adam tried to ignore the sting of being free from the siren’s evil song. He knew, logically, that he should be grateful for such a chance to save his family, and yet he felt sub-par. He already knew he wasn’t considered a human by many, but for it to be confirmed by the gods themselves? He was not prepared for the betrayal it brought him, knowing he would never be a genuine person, no matter how hard he seemed to try. 

The only thing he could do was carry on, he supposed. Fate had revealed to him this curse years ago, and further confirmation was something he had grown used too. He simply had to ignore it, at least while the problem at hand continued. Adam forced down the dread and carried on, the only thing he was capable of. 

He racked his mind for any sort of solution, desperation making his movements rapid and shaky. Sirens were underwater, so any sort of fire was impossible, let alone finding enough oil to properly light one. Fishing net would have no chance against such furious beasts, and harpoons would never find such a rapid target. Whatever he used would have to function within the water, not against it. 

Something fish couldn’t use for air, something that would mix easy with the sea foam filled thrashing down below him. The only thing coming to his mind was fresh water, which was an absolute necessity, or liquor. 

“It shall have to be enough!” Adam muttered to himself , at a loss for any other solution. 

He quickly scampered down into the bowels of the boat, cutting corners sharply and descending the stairs as carefully as he could manage. The entire idea was based on a strong sense of hope and a vague understanding of aquatic anatomy. Adam was running on steam and a prayer, knowing this was the only chance they would legitimately have. If it failed, well, he tried not to think about it. He had heard enough stories to understand their fate. 

Arriving at the storage cabin, he frantically looked around before his amber eyes landed on the line of kegs against the wall, all filled to the brim with rum. Alcohol was something not to be mixed with the lungs, that much was obvious, and it would undoubtedly sting their eyes. It had a good chance of stopping them if he opened enough of them, even if for just long enough to make a getaway. 

He grabbed a keg, hefting it easily, and sent a prayer that his scarring wouldn’t tear on the way up the stairs before he was off. He took the stairs two at a time, almost unbalancing before he was on the deck and praying he didn’t shove anyone down on his way to the helm. He was large enough to do damage, and too much was already done, only for Adam to make it worse in his carelessness. 

Setting the keg up precariously, he ripped the cork out and aimed it towards one of the disgusting eyes glaring at him, before tipping the keg right into the rabid waters below. Adam winced and tried to ignore the angry retching of the sirens, something wet and oozing in their voices, horrid in all ways. Once the keg was empty he immediately ran for another, trying to ignore the pained bellowing behind him, or the entranced men dumbly staring. The glazed eyes made his skin crawl, and reminded him too much of men who lurked in alleyways for easy prey, it was vile.

In his hurry down, he tripped and landed hard on his left shoulder, causing pain to bloom across his collarbone as he slid down several steps. With no time to focus, he merely grunted and threw himself back up, reaching for another barrel, and ignoring the burn it caused in his damaged muscle. The stairs were harder this time, but he kept going, everything else was unimportant in the face of this travesty. 

And so it continued, get a keg, attempt and fail to ignore the agonized screeching and flailing below, drop the keg and grab a new one. Rinse and repeat until his shoulders burned, and he could feel sweat straightening his curls and blood trickling from his ears. He swore he could feel blood run down his arm, something hot and rancid in the icy air of the Atlantic ocean, stinging and burning from the salt spray. It felt like it went on forever, every movement sore and the migraine throbbing in his eyes, compressing his senses until all he could hear was the symphony he brought on with each wave.

The end came on slowly, with each hideous creature falling silent one by one. There was a strange yellow blood congealing in the frozen water, murky and filmy from hacking coughs and groans, and the sight made Adam sick. The smell certainly wasn’t helping his predicament, a blend of gauzy rot and sharp rum making his stomach churn, and he turned away, breathing through his mouth and swallowing spittle. The ship was eerily quiet once more, and Adam could barely handle its suffocating intensity after all the noise before. 

All the other men were slumped, indelicately and uncomfortably, around the helm. Some were moaning in pain, others shuffling against the hardwood. There were too many for Adam to name, let alone move, and he was forced to wait for them to wake alone. Robert himself was sprawled only a few meters away from the creature, yet he could not bring himself to look at the smaller man. Every time he tried he could only imagine the monster he had seen, glazed eyes and gaping maw and choked breathing, it brought the burning acid up his throat all over again.

He could only sit helplessly, itching in his sewn skin, and wait for the putrid air to force them to their senses. 

Snapping from the hallucination might have been terrible, but what came after was undoubtedly worse. The first thing Robert noticed was the skull cracking pain in his ears, only comparable to the fire in his throat when he let out a whine of malcontent. His entire body was agonized, and when he opened his eyes he could only stare at the dark sky above him.

Thick lines of dried tears and oozing mucus lined his face, and each breath drove into him a nausea almost unparalleled. The air was ripe with the stench of decay, something overly sweet and noxious, and the thick spice of alcohol seemed to coat his tongue. He wished to go back to his dreams-cape of flimsy clouds and sweet voices, despite the terrible knowledge that it was just that, a dream. The world around him seemed trivial compared to the song weaved and sickly sweet sorrow of his imagination. 

It was only when he heard footsteps that Robert made an effort to focus on reality, each step ringing something hollow within his head. He moved his dilated pupils to the face tilted towards his, and dread filled him. Adam looked truly like a corpse, something unnatural and demonic at that moment, and Robert finally understood the fear he could invoke. It was exotic, and gorgeous, but the glazed yellow eyes piercing his very soul brought anxiety through him. He was pallid, and Robert could see where each vein interconnected underneath his stretched skin, stretching down his long neck and highlighting each paper thin scar on his face. 

He could only stay silent as Adam stared, assessing him as though he was some sort of predator, before the other spoke.

“The sirens are dead.” 

A simple statement, one that was clear to not be questioned or debated. Robert could tell from the waning tone he held that the way it was handled was something to be discussed another day, or much later. Robert nodded in response, knowing voicing his troubles would get him nowhere, and knowing that his voice would fall apart as quickly as it came. 

The captain forced himself to his knees, huffing at the stiffness of his joints and the pain in his muscles, before rising to his feet and looking around. Men were slowly coming awake around them, some gagging and others merely sobbing, but all thankfully alive. Robert dared not ask how, but knew Adam had somehow overcame the maid’s illusions and saved them all. 

As the moonlight shone across, stronger now that the spell had been shattered, it hit Adam, and he could not contain his gasp at the sight. Before he was merely breathtaking, but now he looked wretched. Blood glued his hair into thick plaits, and coated his jaw, from where the hymns had grown too strong, and his left shoulder was a cacophony of black and blue and creeping yellow from a strong gash across it. He looked pained, and Robert knew he must’ve had the same throbbing they all did. 

He knew Adam needed recovery time, and a safe place to process what he saw, but he also knew that would have to wait. Responsibilities were damned, but necessary, and Robert knew he would understand why he focused on the surrounding men.

Adam slowly slunk off to their shared cabin as Robert began to organize the groaning group, knowing it would be many an hour before they likely saw each other. As he reached out for the door, he flinched against the pain that reverberated from his arm. A quick glance confirmed his growing suspicion, and he growled lightly in irritation. One thing he had noticed when much younger was his susceptibility to infection, undoubtedly from the damage his corpse took before reanimation. It made life quite irritable on occasion, and it seemed now was a grand time as any to flare up in retaliation. 

Doing his best to ignore the flaming ache, he steadfastly opened the door and slammed it behind him, before immediately attempting to remove the salt soaked clothing off his frigid body. Adam had a tolerance for cold unparalleled, but even his limits were reachable, and the spray from those wretched beasts quickly met it. His inflamed shoulder throbbed with his heartbeat, and his weak shivering made the ringing in his ears staccato. 

After throwing his ruined linens on the floor in a fit of anger, he wrapped himself in the heavy quilts lining the bed. At this point, if Robert needed them so badly he could go out and replace them, as well as Adam’s ruined clothing and thawing boots. The bad mood was only exacerbated by the mumbling he heard from the men outside, the thumps and creaking above him where Robert was undoubtedly setting a new course, and the growing ache in his head. 

He was cold, and hurting, with no clothing other than the slime covered rags on the floor, and absolutely exhausted. Adam knew far too well that Robert would have his head if he went to sleep, however, and the nagging he would undoubtedly suffocate him if he allowed his arm to worsen even a fraction more. These clouds only grew around his mind, darkening his disposition even more than the gore across it could manage. 

These thoughts were powerful once Robert finally entered their cabin, and spotting the glower knew immediately to save the niceties for a more extroverted mood. Adam watched as he slowly walked in, softly closing the door and setting down the pail he carried, as well as the bottle of proofed whiskey. Robert winced as the glare strengthened, and a single eyebrow arched in questioning. He could almost hear the sarcastic tone in his head, ‘What do you suppose to do now, mighty captain?’ and braced himself before walking over to his dearest friend. 

“You know we have to clean you off, yes?”

“And what of it?” was the sharp answer, exhaustion making the other’s strange accent more pronounced, more guttural. 

“You obviously will not do it, so I shall in your stead.” 

Thankfully Adam accepted that as a well enough conversation, and gently unwrapped the wounded shoulder from his huddled nest of quilts. It was a nasty red, and swollen with angry blood. Robert could not say he was surprised; ships were never the cleanest places and only God himself knew what sort of mess Sirens were involved in. It didn’t seem to inflamed, only where his shoulder must’ve met some sort of pulled wooden plank, thought the bruising worried Robert greatly. 

As he worked, Adam watched and attempted to soothe his frayed temper. He knew he could be difficult at times, and also knew his irrationality when angered, yet at times it seemed to consume him until nothing was left but a hateful demon. It had been occurring less and less as he aged, and under the guidance of his elder’s aboard the Eve he seemed to be developing something of a new personality, less vengeful and violent. 

Every sigh seemed to release the tension in his body, and by the time the sailor rubbed the wound with whiskey, he barely gritted his teeth. The pain was something sharp and refreshing compared to the dull, monotonous pounding, and it reinvigorated him, even though it stung terribly. The relief the removal of the cloth brought was something tenfold, and Adam finally grinned a tad bit when he noticed how Robert furrowed his brows in concentration. It was this focus that brought his attention to the pained look in his eye, and concern blossomed in Adam’s chest.

“How are you faring, captain?” was the question that broke their thick silence, followed swiftly by a more taciturn statement. “Do not folly and claim yourself well, either. I see it glaring in your eyes a pain more relevant than mine own.” 

He ignored the swift needle entering his skin as he spoke, all too used to that specific pain. Dead bodies did not handle much on their own. His simmered irritation flamed up again at the lack of response he received, and he assumed Robert saw the flare of his nose due to how quickly he then spoke. 

“Merely a headache, dearest, nothing I cannot handle. Please do not further stress yourself with it, I worry with how this shoulder will take after the trauma of the day.” 

Adam snorted at that, knowing all too well the inherent pride Robert kept, and tilted his head to the side.  
“Of course it is merely a headache, oh might sailor, I suppose the others are just weaker of tolerance? Myself included as well, of course.”

The sarcasm dripped off of Adam’s every word, and Robert cringed at its acidity. He saw through him like glass, and Robert accepted his fate.  
Tiptoeing around his wording, he responded once the thread in Adam’s shoulder was successfully tied.  
“I might have bluffed a tad,” ignoring Adam’s small quip, he continued, “It is rather intense, and I fear it has spread to my shoulders.” 

The patient nodded as he spoke, already formulating a plan in his mind to convince Robert to bed. The man overworked almost as severely as his own creator, oftentimes coming to the cabin with deep hollowed eyes and pallid skin. It worried Adam greatly, but despite Robert constantly fretting over him he was quite hypocritical, and refused to allow Adam the privilege of caring for him. 

He silently reached out and stroked Robert’s face as he washed off the gore from his shoulder, watching in faint amusement as the other froze for a moment before hiding a smile and continuing with his gruesome work. As the rag began to run clear with each dip, and Robert gradually relaxed, he moved a long hand up into his hair, before beginning to untangle the knots formed from salt and sweat. 

A companionable silence, much different from the angered and bickering one before, grew between them. Neither felt the urge to break the strange moment between them, comfortable in themselves and in each other. Robert efficiently finished up his wound care, and made a mental note to corral Adam into the Medic’s cabin later on, while Adam reluctantly withdrew his hands from the others scalp, knowing it would seem strange if he continued. 

“Well, dear, I suppose it would be best for you to go on to bed.” Robert broke the silence, forcefully bringing reality back into their quiet room.  
“And what of yourself, I suppose you would be joining be, correct?” Adam knew far too well the game he would keep attempting to play, pretending to be above human pains and sickness so as to present properly in front of his crew. Adam was not as gullible as a human, however, that much was proven earlier that day. He easily saw through the mans charades, and cut cleanly to the issue at hand. 

“I also suppose the men have their orders and course?” He ignored Robert’s nod and continued, “Well. Then I see you have nothing to ail you, and can in fact join me without error,” A sly smile grew on his black lips, “I see through your lies, Robert, do not attempt a facade."  
The man in question frowned, knowing all too well he was caught in the act. 

"Fine then. Allow me to change and I shall join you, I'm smart enough to know when to accept defeat."

And so he stood, quickly stripping whilst Adam flushed and averted his gaze, not wishing to further torture himself. He heard the thumping of cloth on the floor, and bare feet padding around as drawers opened and closed. After several agonizing moments, he felt the bed dip and looked up, before offering a portion of his stolen blankets.

The night had finally calmed, and Adam was finally warm and clean, and the throbbing in his wounds had faded. Robert softly petting his back and neck only increased his enjoyment, and soothed the rest of his worries away.


End file.
